A Game of Thrones, Catelyn IV
“Lord Baelish tells me that I have you to thank for bringing me here.”
Varys giggled like a little girl. “Oh, yes. I suppose I am guilty. I hope you forgive me, kind lady.”
He eased himself down into a seat and put his hands together. “I wonder if we might trouble you to show us the dagger?”
Catelyn Stark stared at the eunuch in stunned disbelief. He was a spider, she thought wildly, an enchanter or worse. He knew things no one could possibly know, unless…
“What have you done to Ser Rodrik?” she demanded.
Littlefinger was lost. “I feel rather like the knight who arrives at the battle without his lance. What dagger are we talking about? Who is Ser Rodrik?”
“Ser Rodrik Cassel is master-at-arms at Winterfell,” Varys informed him. “I assure you, Lady Stark, nothing at all has been done to the good knight. He did call here early this afternoon. He visited with Ser Aron Santagar in the armory, and they talked of a certain dagger. About sunset, they left the castle together and walked to that dreadful hovel where you were staying. They are still there, drinking in the common room, waiting for your return. Ser Rodrik was very distressed to find you gone.”
“How could you know all that?”
“The whisperings of little birds,” Varys said, smiling.
“I know things, sweet lady. That is the nature of my service.” He shrugged.
